


guide you home

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, american au i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>All of the air leaves Harry’s lungs. His mouth snaps shut, his heartbeat thundering in his ears; it’s as if the world has frozen and shrank, narrowed down to Harry and the voice that he hasn’t heard outside of the phone and Skype for 6 months. And then he’s there, standing in front of Harry with bags under his eyes and his hair is messy but his smile is so bright and beautiful and he’s here, he’s</i> here.</p><p>Christmas AU. Harry gets the one thing he wishes for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	guide you home

**Author's Note:**

> impromptu last-minute christmas fic!! i literally decided to write this today, went home, and sat on the couch and churned this out. i just wanted to share some cute christmas feelings so hope yall enjoy and happy holidays!!
> 
> ps u can find me on tumblr @antilarry!

The bed is shaking.

Harry blearily opens his eyes, squinting in the early morning light that cuts a stripe across the room. He hadn’t closed the curtains all the way last night. It takes a few long seconds for him to shake off some of his sleep-fog and realize that the bed isn’t actually shaking.

“Daddy,” Darcy whispers, her small hands giving his shoulder another jostle. “Daddy, wake up. It’s Christmas!”

Harry grins, the motion momentarily broken by a yawn, and scoops Darcy into his arms, smacking a kiss to her cheek. “That it is, duckie. Y’wanna see what Santa left for you?”

“Yeah!” Darcy cheers.

“Let Daddy get up and brush his teeth, and then I’ll make us pancakes and we can open presents after breakfast. How’s that sound?”

“Blueberry pancakes?” Darcy’s eyes are wide and pleading. 

“Of course,” Harry promises. “Now go brush your teeth and put a sweater on, and I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

“Okay!” Darcy says, already running towards the door. 

Harry smiles to himself, listening to her sing Deck the Hall in her bathroom. He sits up in bed, wincing slightly and then sighing in relief as he cracks his back. He takes a few moments to stretch, shaking the last dregs of sleep from his system. Unplugging his phone from the charger, he checks it; he’s got a few unimportant e-mails, mostly junk, and some Merry Christmas texts. None of them are from who he hopes, though, and he swallows down his disappointment.

The air is chilly when he peels the blankets off, goosebumps immediately prickling along his exposed skin, and he hurriedly slips into sweats and a hoodie before padding into his own bathroom. 

He grabs his toothbrush from the green cup by the sink and squeezes a neat line of toothpaste onto the bristles. As he works the toothbrush in his mouth, building up white foam, he can’t stop his eyes from falling on the blue cup on the other side of the sink, a matching toothbrush inside of it. His heart gives a little squeeze, and he blinks, tearing his eyes away and spitting into the sink.

Darcy is already sitting at the kitchen table when Harry makes his way downstairs, bundled in a Christmas sweater they’d picked out together last week at Macy’s, socked feet swinging back and forth. Harry drops a kiss on her head as he passes by on his way to the kitchen.

“You wanna help me, Darce?” he asks, pulling out a big mixing bowl and a box of pancake mix.

“Yes!”

Harry tells her what ingredients to get from the fridge and lets her carefully crack two eggs into the bowl, her brow furrowed in concentration. She’s gotten good at it, Harry notes, swelling with pride. She insists that she wants to mix, too, so Harry hoists her onto the countertop and hands her the bowl and a wooden spoon. Happily, she grips the spoon and begins to mix, sending a bit of flour flying out in the process. After a few minutes of this, she stops and pouts up at Harry. There’s a smudge of flour on her nose. 

“My hand is tired.”

Harry laughs and plucks the bowl and spoon out of her hands. He tweaks her nose, transferring the flour to his thumb and making her giggle and squirm away. “That’s okay, love. You did an amazing job, thank you for all your help.” 

She beams, a gap where her front tooth used to be, and watches quietly as Harry finishes mixing the batter and pulls out the griddle, plugging it in and switching it on.

“Why don’t you go set the table, Darce? The pancakes will be ready soon.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She scurries off, a ball of energy as always.

As promised, within a few minutes, Harry slides two plates of fluffy blueberry pancakes onto the kitchen table. Darcy lets out a whoop, her fork at the ready, and after dumping a generous amount of maple syrup on her plate--Harry doesn’t even stop her, he really does spoil her too much--she immediately digs in. Harry pours a liberal amount of syrup on his pancakes as well, his sweet tooth not yet diminished over the years, and starts eating.

Darcy had poured them both a glass of orange juice, and it tastes especially tangy after the sugarbomb of the pancakes. Harry quite likes it, has even gotten used to orange juice in the morning instead of tea. They rarely had orange juice before Darcy came along.

That thought sends a pang through his chest again. Luckily, Darcy chooses that moment to ask, “When are Uncle Niall and Uncle Zayn and Uncle Liam coming?”

“Um, they’ll be here around 3, love.”

“What about Grandma and Grandpa? And Nan and Pop?”

“They’ll be coming later. Around 5 or 6. You excited to see everyone?”

Darcy nods enthusiastically, cheek bulging. She swallows and takes a gulp of orange juice.

“I like it when everyone’s over here,” she says.

Harry smiles. “I do, too.”

“I wish Papa could be here, too.”

And there it is. Harry’s stomach bottoms out, his heart twisting behind his ribcage, heavy with everything he’s been trying to keep down. He swallows, hard, and reaches out to tuck a strand of wavy hair behind Darcy’s ear.

“I wish he could, too, duckie. More than anything.”

“We’ll see him soon, though, right?” Darcy turns wide and trusting eyes towards him, shiny and blue, and Harry’s chest aches. 

“Of course.” He manages a small smile. “We’ll see him soon.”

Darcy is clearly satisfied with the answer and returns to her pancakes. Harry twists the ring on his left hand and hopes desperately that he told the truth.

Once their plates are cleared, nothing left of the pancakes except blueberry-purple and sticky syrup smears, Harry drops them into the sink to wash later and carries Darcy, practically vibrating with excitement, into the living room.

Their tree is a live one, still fresh enough to fill the room with the heady scent of pine needles; Harry had taken Darcy to the lot and let her pick whichever one she wanted. They’d decorated it together as soon as they got home, hanging both gleaming store-bought baubles and ornaments Darcy had made at school on its branches. When it had come time for the star on top, Harry had hoisted Darcy up to sit on his shoulders, and she’d placed the final touch--a star-shaped frame, holding a picture of the three of them.

It’s what Harry looks at now, as Darcy squeals in delight. It’s a good picture, all three of them smiling big and genuine. Louis is wearing one of Harry’s shirts.

Harry exhales and focuses on Darcy. She’s peering into her stocking, stuffed to the brim with sweets and little knick knacks.

“Santa bring you good stuff this year?”

Darcy nods rapidly. “I’ve been a good girl.”

“The best,” Harry agrees. He grins and jerks his chin towards the presents. There are quite a lot, even without the multitude of gifts that the boys will be bringing later. “Wanna open these?”

Darcy nods again. Her eyes are sparkling.

Harry pushes her designated stack of presents towards her. She picks up the one on top, the first of several from Harry and Louis, and her small hands make quick work of the wrapping paper. 

“A microscope?” Her jaw drops. “That’s so cool, Daddy.”

Harry laughs and kisses the top of her head. “I’m glad you like it, duckie.”

Darcy tears through the rest of the presents, unwrapping a giant stuffed lion, a set of markers, books, a marshmallow gun, and a new scooter. She yells excitedly at every one, and when she’s done, she hugs Harry tight and says, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Harry squeezes her back, pressing kisses to her cheek. “You’re welcome, duckie. I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” 

After Darcy releases him, Harry stands up, brushing some carpet fluff off of his sweats. “Alright, love, I’ve got to start preparing for everyone. You can go play with your new stuff upstairs.”

Darcy’s brow furrows like it does when she’s trying to decide something. After a few seconds, she says, “No, I wanna help you, Daddy.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Darce. But it’s okay, you can go play if you want to.”

She shakes her head furiously. “I wanna help!”

Harry laughs, warmth blooming all over. “Okay, okay. You can help.”

The next few hours are spent washing fruit and vegetables, peeling potatoes, making stuffing, and stirring cookie batter. Harry pops the turkey into the oven and within half an hour, its rich scent begins filling up the kitchen.

By the time the doorbell rings at a quarter past 3, the cookies are cooling and everything that needs to be refrigerated is neatly sorted and stacked in the fridge, ready to pull out and cook when dinner time comes. The entire house smells like turkey and warm chocolate.

Darcy volunteers to get the door, running as fast as her feet can take her. Harry unties his apron and hears her squeal, “Uncle Niall!”

Niall’s got a giggling Darcy in his arms when Harry gets to the door. They grin at each other, hugging as soon as Darcy’s got her feet back on the ground.

“Hey, man, how are you?”

“Good, it’s so good to see you.” Harry tousles Niall’s hair. “I see the blond is well on its way out.”

Niall laughs, bringing his own hand to his hair; the roots have grown out significantly, the bleach-blonde reduced to just over an inch of the strands. “Yeah, figured I was getting too old.”

“Where are Liam and Zayn?” Harry peers outside, as if they might be hiding. “Don’t you normally hitch a ride with them?”

“Oh, they’ll be here later,” Niall says, too quick. “They just...got caught up in something.”

Harry’s eyes narrow at him in suspicion, but in the name of the holiday spirit, he lets it go. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, then.”

“And me!” Darcy chimes.

Niall grins and picks her up again, spinning her in a circle. “And you, of course. How could I ever forget my favorite little girl?”

“Smells amazing, H,” Niall comments as soon as he walks into the living room. He collapses on the couch and rubs his stomach. “Man, I’ve barely eaten all day. Been saving my stomach for this.”

Harry swats playfully at the socked foot Niall has kicked up on the coffee table. “As you should. Want a beer?”

“God, please.”

Harry grabs two beers from the fridge, popping the caps off before returning to the couch and handing one to Niall.

“Thanks man.”

“Uncle Niall,” Darcy says, tugging on his arm. “Do you wanna play Smash Bros with me?”

“Um, duh,” Niall answers. “Two against one with your dad?”

“Yeah!”

Harry rolls his eyes, smiling.

They boot up the game, settling into their respective places on the couch. Niall goes for Zelda, Darcy chooses Link, and Harry picks Kirby.

Niall and Darcy kick Harry’s ass, of course. Harry fakes indignance and insists on a rematch. The game gets intense, as it tends to do, and they spend a good amount of time smashing their controllers and stuffing cookies into their mouths.

When they finally decide to retire, the score 5-0, it’s almost 5 o’clock. Harry stands up, cracking his back.

“I’m gonna start getting dinner ready.”

“Ooh, I’ll help,” Niall says, standing too and polishing off his beer.

“Darce? You want to keep playing?”

She nods.

Harry and Niall head off to the kitchen together. Harry gets the water boiling for the potatoes and vegetables while Niall checks on the turkey--“A plus, man, A plus”--and prepares the gravy. 

“So, Harry,” Niall says, as he stirs the simmering gravy. “How have you been, really?”

Harry shrugs, focusing on measuring out some salt. “Fine.”

“I know how hard it must be.” Niall’s voice is quiet. “It’s okay to talk about it.”

Harry is silent for a long moment. The steam from the boiling water moistens his face. Finally, he mumbles, “I miss him so much.”

“I know,” Niall says softly. “We all do.”

“I just--I just wish he were here. I hate that he’s not. I hate that we had to decorate the tree without him. I hate that he couldn’t be here for his own birthday.”

Harry sniffs, and the wetness on his face isn’t just from the steam. He stares at the bubbling water. “I just want him to come home.”

“That would be the best kind of Christmas miracle, wouldn’t it?”

Harry laughs wetly. “Yeah.”

Niall drops the spoon and walks over to Harry, giving him a hug from the side. They stay there for a bit, until Harry swipes at his face and swats Niall’s ass.

“Go watch the gravy.”

Niall holds his hands up in surrender and does as he’s told. 

The doorbell rings again at half past five, and this time, Harry opens it.

It’s his mum and Robin, and there’s instantly a flurry of hugs and kisses. Jay and Dan show up not five minutes later, inducing another flurry of hugs and kisses. By the time it’s all over, Harry’s got lipstick smeared on his face and smells like a mixture of perfumes and colognes.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” Harry tells Jay and Dan, squeezing Jay’s hands in his. “Even when Louis isn’t here.”

“Oh, darling,” Jay says, smiling and squeezing back. “You know you’re as much our son as Louis is.” 

Harry smiles, ducking his head, and gives her another hug.

Everyone settles around the living room, filling the space with laughter and chatter. The pile of presents grows. There’s still a glaring absence, though, two to be exact, and Harry frowns as he checks his phone.

There’s a text from Liam, received thirteen minutes ago.

_on our way_

“Wow, Liam and Zayn really must’ve been caught up in something,” Harry comments to Niall. “They’re on their way now.”

Niall’s sudden smile is huge. Harry raises his eyebrows. “Someone’s excited to see them.”

Niall shakes his head, laughing, and claps Harry’s shoulder. “Man, you have no idea.”

He wanders into the living room with another beer before Harry can say anything else.

“Daddy, can I open the other presents?” Darcy asks as soon as Harry joins everyone. Her face is glowing.

“Sure, love, but Uncle Zayn and Uncle Liam will be here soon.”

“Yay!”

Darcy turns to the pile of presents, all marked with her name. She stares at them, seeming to struggle with which gift to open first.

“Here.” Harry crouches down next to her and picks up two wrapped packages at random, holding them behind his back. “Left or right hand?”

“Ummm.” Darcy’s brow furrows, as if this is the most serious question she’s ever been asked. Finally, she decides, “Right.”

Harry grins and hands her the gift in his right hand. “Go on, then. Who’s it from?” Not that he doesn’t already know, because there’s only one person who wraps gifts in recycled paper shopping bags.

“Uncle Niall!” Darcy yells excitedly. Niall lets out a whoop. She immediately rips into the paper.

“Woah,” she exclaims, eyes round. “I’ve never seen this many Legos before!”

“I remembered how you said the kits were always too small and you finished building them too fast,” Niall says. “So I went out and got the biggest one I could find.”

“Thanks, Uncle Niall!” She flings her arms around Niall’s legs. Niall chuckles and ruffles her hair affectionately.

“Okay, this one next,” Harry says, handing her the gift in his left hand. 

Just as she takes it, the doorbell rings.

“Uncle Liam and Uncle Zayn!” Darcy cries, abandoning the presents and running to the door, Harry following her. She has to tiptoe to reach the handle, but she pulls the door open with ease. 

“Hey, babe!” Zayn says, stepping inside and giving her a hug, Liam close behind him. “Wow, cute sweater.”

“Thank you! Uncle Liam!” She holds her arms out to him, and he laughs, scooping her up and kissing her cheek. “Hey, cutie.”

“No hugs for me?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised. Liam and Zayn instantly pile onto him, squeezing him tight and peppering his face with kisses.

“Merry Christmas, H,” Zayn says, pulling back and grinning at him. Liam is grinning at him, too, their faces practically shining.

Liam adds, “Sorry we’re so late. We had to pick up a gift for you, and it was kind of hard to carry.”

“What--” Harry begins, but before he can continue, he hears a voice say, “Hey, I resent that.”

All of the air leaves Harry’s lungs. His mouth snaps shut, his heartbeat thundering in his ears; it’s as if the world has frozen and shrank, narrowed down to Harry and the voice that he hasn’t heard outside of the phone and Skype for 6 months. And then he’s there, standing in front of Harry with bags under his eyes and his hair is messy but his smile is so bright and beautiful and he’s here, he’s _here_.

Harry chokes out, “Louis,” and stumbles forward. Louis drops his bags and catches him in his arms, presses them together and squeezes him so tight that Harry thinks he might never let go, murmurs, “Hi, baby,” into his ear and just like that, Harry is sobbing.

He clutches at Louis, twists his fingers in his fatigues, kisses him, the salt of his tears tangy against their lips. He can’t stop crying and he can’t stop kissing him, and Louis is stroking his hair and cupping his face and kissing him back. 

It feels like years pass like that, no air except the air that they share, nothing existing outside of them and what lives between them. When he opens his eyes, Harry half expects Louis to be gone, but he’s there, he’s _there_ , looking at Harry with eyes so petal-soft that Harry’s chest hurts. 

The world around them slowly comes back into focus. The room is full of applause, and if Harry could tear his eyes away from Louis, he’d be able to see the tears in everyone’s eyes. There’s only one thing that could make Harry move an inch from Louis right now, and that thing is screaming “Papa” and flinging her arms around Louis’ legs.

“Hey, duckie,” Louis laughs, swinging her up into his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck immediately. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too, Papa.” Darcy squeezes, Louis pressing kisses all over her face. 

“You’re so big now,” Louis says wondrously, a sad tilt to his mouth. He bounces her in his arms. “The last time I held you, you were tiny.”

Harry smiles, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. “She’s been growing out of her clothes so fast.”

“We’ll have to go shopping then, hm? All three of us.” Louis smiles softly at Harry. Harry kisses him again.

“I feel like I’m watching a movie,” they hear Niall say, his voice choked up. “God, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Harry laughs quietly, turning to Zayn and Liam with wonder in his eyes. “How did this even happen?”

“Well, it was mostly Lou’s idea,” Zayn says. “He told us his deployment was ending early, that he was coming back on Christmas day, and that he wanted to surprise you. We just kept it a secret and picked him up from the airport.”

“I helped keep it a secret,” Niall chimes in.

Harry can feel tears welling in his eyes again. “I love you guys,” he says, pulling them all in for a hug. “Thank you. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

When he’s done showing his boys his love, Louis’ with his parents, Jay crying as she pulls her son into a hug. Harry, knowing he should let them have their time together, whispers, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

The turkey’s fully cooked, and Harry nearly drops the entire thing when he takes it out of the oven, his hands are shaking so badly. He still feels like he’s in a dream, like when he walks back out there, Louis will still be nothing more than a wish.

He sets the turkey down on the countertop to cool. The table is already set, so all he needs to do is bring the food over.

His hands are still shaking, though, and he rests them on the cool surface of the counter, gripping the edge. His cheeks hurt from smiling.

Warm arms wrap around him from behind, familiar and real, and Harry leans back into the touch before turning around. Louis gives him that achingly soft smile again and tucks a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear.

“You’re here,” Harry says. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I am. I’m here.”

“That’s all I wanted,” Harry whispers. “I missed you so much.”

“God, me too,” Louis breathes. “More than anything.”

They lean into each other, lips suckling gently, reveling in being able to touch, to taste, again. It’s been a long time, and neither can get enough. Harry forces himself to pull back after a particularly bruising kiss, though, breathing hard and cheeks flushed.

“Our entire family is in the room next to us,” he whispers, giggling breathlessly. Louis groans and nips at Harry’s jaw one more time.

“Later, then,” he says, eyes dark, and Harry very nearly considers kicking everyone out.

He doesn’t, though. Louis helps him bring the food to the table, and Harry sets one more spot, and Louis sits in the middle of Harry and Darcy. They eat and drink and talk and laugh and Harry holds Louis’ hand under the table like they’re sixteen again and he’s so, so happy. 

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Niall raises his glass for a toast. “Happy holidays to everyone. May the new year bring good health, good food, and good sex.” 

They all cheer and clink their glasses together, but before they can drink, Niall holds a finger up. He raises his glass again. “And to Louis--welcome home.”

They all cheer again, louder this time, Louis’ face glowing like the sun. Harry squeezes his hand under the table and smiles at him as they drink.

He’s home.


End file.
